


daughter's a dream (in the form of a nightmare)

by strikesyourfancy (dodgingbullets)



Category: Fifth Harmony (Band)
Genre: Ally's the mom we all want but don't deserve, F/F, Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 08:58:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6148333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dodgingbullets/pseuds/strikesyourfancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Ally is the divorced, religious, and loving mother to an angry teenage rebel of a daughter, and Camila is the praise team leader of the local high school’s Christian youth group.</p>
            </blockquote>





	daughter's a dream (in the form of a nightmare)

**Author's Note:**

> The bones and most of the flesh of this story came around that time that one particular picture was circulating, which was maybe a little under (over?) a year ago. I couldn't stop myself from writing this. Finishing it was another story, but I decided to drudge this up from my document-purgatory and finish it off. Note that Christianity is mentioned in the story; I'm not pushing any religious agenda as I'm not religious myself, but found it unfair to go negative in my portrayal when plenty of Christians in my life are quite educated and accepting (and queer!). Enjoy.

“Now, Lauren –“

“Mom, calm the fuck down. I was out with some friends, okay? Like, let me live.”

The girl rolls her eyes and storms upstairs to her room and Ally finds herself in the same spot by the staircase banister, sighing and wondering how things got this way.

Her daughter wasn’t always like this. She was bubbly, excitable, sweet, once upon a time. Ally wonders often if it was the divorce she and Troy had when Lauren turned thirteen that caused her daughter to rebel so suddenly. It’s days like laundry day that Ally notices the distinct lack of color in her daughter’s wardrobe as well as the choice in clothing as well.

She’s not sure what to do, entirely. Her daughter’s getting suspended from school on a weekly basis and the threat of expulsion is ever present. Lauren’s also been skipping church on Sundays and Ally’s pretty sure she’s seen the corners of a cigarette pack peeking out of her daughter’s purse. And it’s not one or two times she’s stayed up in bed, listening as her daughter sneaks out thinking she’s sleeping and sneak back in three hours later, stumbling footsteps and loud hiccups. She’s not dumb. And she’s really tired of all of this, but mostly from staying up. How’s a mother supposed to sleep knowing her daughter’s out getting drunk?

It’s difficult to confront Lauren about it too, being that she seems to only rebel harder every time she tries to. It’s a frustrating cycle that Ally finds herself stuck in, and although she attempts to do something, anything, there hasn’t been much progress made. Another stressed sigh later, she grabs for her cell phone and calls her closest friend.

“Ally? How are you!”

Ally relaxes at the sound of the familiar voice, settling down on the couch.

“Hey, Normani! It’s been a while.”

“Yes, a month is way too long.” Normani agrees. “Now did you call me at midnight to catch up, or is something going on?”

“You always know what I’m thinking.” Ally laughs and Normani laughs with her.

“Always. So what’s bothering you?”

“It’s my daughter.” Ally groans, massaging her forehead with her hands. “She’s just been getting worse. I know we agreed it’d be a phase she’d fall out of, but it’s not happening. I think she’s mixing with the wrong crowds. It’s not just black clothes and dark music anymore – it’s sneaking out and getting drunk, smoking and causing trouble. It’s not good.”

“Oh, geez.”

“I’m really worried for her. How can I even stop this when she only gets mad every time I try and talk to her?”

“Just talk to her. Sit her down! That’ll be the hard part. Treat her like an adult but be her mother. Level with her.”

-

Sitting her daughter down is certainly the hard part, but talking is even harder. She clears her throat and her daughter grumbles obscenities and she’s not sure how long she has her attention so she lets it out in one breath.

“You’ve been starting arguments with the teachers, smoking and sneaking out and drinking, and you’ve been skipping church.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lauren says with a glare.

“Lauren, don’t lie to me.”

“Don’t get involved in my fucking life!”

It’s immediate yelling again but instead of turning away like she usually does, Ally braves through it and talks as calmly as she can back.

“I don’t understand why you’re always so angry with me.” Ally asks.

Lauren rolls her eyes like she always does and refocuses on the laptop in front of her. Ally doesn’t budge from her position at the doorway and Lauren makes no attempt at acknowledging her presence. It becomes an awkward showdown, with Ally’s eyes boring into Lauren and Lauren’s eyes boring into the screen.

“Lauren –“

“Mom, just leave me alone! I fucking hate you!” Lauren lashes out.

And usually, that would’ve been it, but it’s too much. It’s a little too much and Ally finds herself retaliating.

“Why? Why is it always this? What have I done? Are you trying to upset me? Because it’s working. Are you upset because of the divorce? Is it something I’ve done? Why can’t you just say it so I can know why you’re so unhappy all the time? Why can’t you just say it so I can be your mom again? Not some stranger you live with?”

There are tears in her eyes now and Lauren’s eyes are wide and she’s not talking back, which is a first. Ally’s a bit worried that her outburst might cause Lauren to fight back even harder, but her eyes are still wide and she opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out. Her daughter tries again but there’s a slight waver to her bottom lip and she’s suddenly looking away, an arm covering her eyes.

“You’re still my mom.” Lauren mutters, not looking up from her arm. “Nothing’s your fault.”

“It doesn’t feel like it, not when every time I talk to you, there’s only an argument or silence. Just be truthful with me, please. Is it me? Something I did? Is it the divorce?”

“The divorce wasn’t your fault either.” Lauren says, voice weak. “Dad was an asshole.”

“Dad’s not an asshole –“

“And you’re too nice. So it’s not your fault or a-anything. I don’t hate you. I didn’t mean it, I really don’t hate you, Mom.” 

Her daughter’s voice hitches and she knows she’s about to cry. 

“I know, mija, I know.”

“Mom, I – I don’t want you to h – hate me.”

Lauren’s bawling now, no longer trying to hide the tears trailing mascara down her cheeks. Ally quickly sits down next to her daughter and wraps her arms around her, hurting for her child. She kisses her on the forehead and wipes away as much of the tears as she can with her sleeve, caring more about her daughter’s pain than more laundry.

“I could never hate you, mija.”

“I’ve been real terrible to you, I know I have been. I just f-figured it’d be better you hate me on my own t-terms than –“

“Look, you’re my child, and no matter how many mistakes you make, I am your mother. I will love you endlessly.”

Her daughter falls into another fit of tears and Ally holds her as she does. The tough exterior and uncaring front is all but shattered and Ally can better see her hurting daughter underneath. It pains her to see that she couldn’t see how hurt she was and how it all seemed to tie back to something that made her child feel like it could cause her to hate her.

“Mom, I’m sorry .” Lauren cries.

“Shh, mija.”

“Mom, mom, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know you’re so Christian and I know church means everything to you but I can’t do that. I can’t do any of that crap, mom –“

“Mija –“

“I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m sorry.”

Her daughter begins crying again and Ally fights the urge to freeze up at the information, instead, wrapping her child in a warm hug. There’s a small voice in the back of her head, developed from years of church, screaming at her to say something, to yell, to ask how she could do such a thing, how she could choose such a thing. But seeing the broken eyes of her daughter, the desperation in her voice, the fear in her body – as a mother, she immediately decides such a state of being could never be a choice. Nobody in the world could be so masochistic.

“Mija, no, no. Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry for ever making you feel like I could ever feel any way towards you other than love.”

She cries with her daughter for the next two hours, both women uttering apologies and mending wounds. It’s needed. There’s healing. There’s love.

-

“You should join the youth group at your school.”

Lauren rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, okay, Mom.”

“I’m serious! Just because some Christians are uneducated doesn’t mean all of them are! And that God isn’t!”

“Well, the shit God makes his people do is pretty crappy.”

“I think that’s more the people doing their own crappy thing and using God as justification. And quit rolling your eyes, mija. You’re going to get them stuck there one day.”

“Doubtful. Plus, Christians hate people like me.”

“People like you?”

“Yeah. People like me. You know. Gay people. Christians would rather I be dead than show up in their cute little perfect churches.”

“Oh, hush. You’re speaking so negative.”

Ally huffs her cheeks and gently smacks her daughter on the arm.

“I’m Christian and I think you’re the best thing since canned beans.”

“First of all, canned beans are gross, and second, you’re probably going to hell for that.”

“Lauren Michelle Hernandez!”

“Kidding! Kidding!”

Her daughter laughs and runs out of the room and she shakes her head and gives chase, yelling playfully at her until she’s got her cornered and she promises (“Really, I promise! I will!) that she’ll give the Christian youth group at school a try.

-

She was told, back when her husband was still faithful and around, that she would never have children. Something about her womb and something more about her genes. Infertility. All she remembers is walking around feeling so shattered inside for a year.

She prayed a year after she received that dreadful diagnosis from her doctor. She prayed with all her soul and spirit, pouring out the tears and sadness she had buried inside herself, and when she was done, she felt refreshed, clean. She hadn’t cried in so long – so long that she would not even allow her husband to hold her when she did. That was the first day she felt her spirituality catch fire again, the seeds of belief despite her world feeling black and white around her.

Then came the dream. It was a crazy dream, a dream where she was sitting under the shade of a large oak. The oak was dreadfully black and the skies around her were cloudy and gray, but it didn’t scare her. It was strangely calming. Her husband wasn’t in the dream, nothing unusual, but what was unusual was how her dream self was holding her stomach, cradling it with such gentle love that it was impossibly surreal.

The moment she woke up, she bugged her husband until he drove her to the local store to grab a few pregnancy tests. He thought she was being ridiculous, and she agreed with him the whole ride over. It was only in the bathroom, holding three positive pregnancy tests in her hand, that she allowed herself to be held by her crying husband.

Lauren was her little dream come true.

-

“So I went to youth group.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. The youth group at my high school’s called Path to Heaven Club. Isn’t that ridiculous?”

“I think it’s endearing. I’m proud of you for giving youth group a try. Have you made any friends?”

“Yeah, just one. She’s the praise team leader and she’s got this incredible voice. I was sitting in the back and after the praise team finished performing she came over and sat next to me and introduced herself and now we’re friends, I think.”

“Maybe she can make sure you keep going.” Ally grins.

“Well, whatever. No promises I’ll keep going back.”

She keeps going back.

-

The change is pretty obvious. Lauren’s still coming home late, but she’s always completely sober so it’s a huge step up. She doesn’t yell as much, although she still snaps sometimes, but she apologizes more frequently. Her laughter isn’t such a foreign sound anymore. She tells Ally she loves her a lot more too, and it’s warming every time she does. (Even when she says it to try to get out of trouble.)

It’s two months in that Lauren brings someone home. Granted, Lauren whispers that she’s just a friend. The girl is dressed in a blouse and a modest, black skirt. She’s got a pink bow in her hair and a cute but shy smile. Her hands are folded in front of her and she tucks a bit of her hair behind her ear before talking.

“Hey, Ms. Brooke. I’m Camila.”

Ally smiles and takes the girl’s outstretched hand and shakes it. 

“She’s the, uhm, praise team leader of Path to Heaven Club. Which is still a ridiculous name, by the way.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.”

“It’s pretty fucki-.”

“Lauren!”

“Fudging! It’s pretty fudging bad.”

Camila laughs and her hand hits Lauren’s arm in that soft, playful way that makes Ally fight the urge to raise an eyebrow.

“So are you the reason my daughter’s been so happy lately?”

“Mom!” 

Lauren blushes a deep red and Ally’s almost afraid she said the wrong thing, but the lingering shy smiles on the girls’ faces confirm her statement. She tries not to show it, but Ally’s ecstatic. 

“Are you staying for dinner? I make a mean casserole.”

The girl tilts her head to the side in deliberation and looks towards Lauren, who’s looking down at her feet. It’s kind of cute, actually. Camila finally looks back up at Ally with a smile.

“I’d love to.”

The grin on her daughter’s face is well worth the extra dish washing.

-

Camila becomes a bit of a staple in the family. Sometimes she’ll come home from work and Camila will be there, snuggled up with Lauren on the couch, watching Disney movies. Other times, she’ll come home to a house smelling wonderfully of something delicious and made with heart (and maybe a bit burnt) and those are her favorite days. 

Those are the days when she’ll sneak quietly to the kitchen and peek in before either girl notices, enjoying the playful banter and the way her daughter’s eyes sparkle with delight. The food is good enough that she almost forgives them for leaving the kitchen a mess every time. (Camila always offers to clean up afterwards, but Lauren always pulls her away with a “bye mom, love you, we made dinner so you clean, love you!” and Ally can’t argue when her baby looks like she can fly.)

Plus, they almost always sing after dinner in the living room, and washing dishes isn’t so bad to the soundtrack of two voices so obviously infatuated. It sounds like honey and ginger dripping down into a pot, like the songs she sings to her daughter when she’s not feeling so well and is stuck in bed. A healing song. She imagines Lauren’s heart is a little more fixed every time the two sing together and it’s wonderful. They’re wonderful.

One day, it stops. 

She wonders if she should say anything about it, but the sadness in her daughter’s eyes and the way she barely gets out of bed worries her, so she sits her down after school.

“How’s Camila doing? She hasn’t been around in a little while.”

Lauren frowns.

“I don’t want to talk about her.”

“What’s wrong?”

Ally walks over and drapes an arm around her daughter, sitting down next to her. Her daughter lets out a slow breath.

“Mom, Camila was my girlfriend.”

“I’ve gathered.” Ally smiles softly, waiting for her to continue speaking.

“Emphasis on was.”

“Did you break up?”

“I don’t know. I think so. Not technically, but… it feels a whole lot like apart than together and I don’t know what to do.”

Her daughter’s voice breaks off into a hurt whisper towards the end of her sentence and Ally feels her heart breaking in two for the girl.

“What happened?”

“The youth group pastor saw us holding hands at the movies four days ago and he had a talk with her after her praise team practice. I overhead a bit of it, and he was saying how I was – I was going to hell and that I was a disgusting degenerate and that he thought better of her and… She hasn’t spoken to me since. And I just, I should’ve seen this coming, but I – I –“ 

She wants to say something, anything, but it’s hard when her daughter breaks into tears. It’s hard when the child of her own flesh is crying such raw, painful sobs and all she wants to do is run out and break a few commandments, but her daughter needs her mother to hold her and tell her that everything will be okay and the world isn’t such a horrible place, and so she does. 

-

The lady at the front office is kind enough to let her know what time and what classroom the Path to Heaven youth group meetings are held, and with that information, she grips her purse, trembling at the pure protective instinct inside of her. There is a raging fire inside of her and she’s thinking of ways to baptize the horrible man who hurt her daughter in it. The moment she locates the classroom, she storms in. The students in the club look up in shock and the man at the front – Pastor Jack – tries to address her but she’s the first to talk.

“You’re an absolutely vile person.” She says, pointing a finger at the man.

“Excuse me?”

“My daughter is a beautiful, wonderful human being. Her sexuality has nothing to do with her quality as a person.”

Pastor Jack raises his hands in defense, looking around the full classroom wordlessly before turning back to Ally.

“I don’t think this is appropriate –“

“Well, I don’t think it’s appropriate to call a young girl who’s done nothing but love and care about other people her whole life a “disgusting degenerate”. My daughter is a human being and deserves that same respect. I don’t know what “god” you worship, but the God I know of would never – and I mean never – preach the poison that comes out your mouth.”

“I think it’s best if you leave.” He says after composing himself.

“I think it’s best if I leave too.” A younger voice calls out.

“I’m out of here too.”

“Same. That’s bull.”

Pastor Jack looks just as surprised as she is when the club members start standing up, all disappointed faces and disbelieving frowns, hands holding bibles but not a shred of hatred. She lifts her head up and walks out the room, head high. So what if she’s still angry at Pastor Jack. So what if she didn’t get the apology a part of her was willing to tear out of the man. There’s something uplifting about entering a room with one pair of shaking hands and leaving it with a trail of shaking heads behind her.

“Ms. Hernandez, wait –“ 

She stops and turns around to see Camila, terrified and teary eyed, waiting for her in the hallway.

“Hello, Camila.”

“I wasn’t – I wasn’t avoiding Lauren because of what Pastor Jack was saying to me.” Camila admits, playing with the hem of her skirt.

“You don’t have to explain yourself –“

“No, I really, really want to. I just, look. I knew Pastor Jack since I was little. I was in praise team ever since I could sing. I was part of Christian clubs since I could join them and I go to church, like, every Sunday. I’ve always followed the rules. I’ve always been a good girl. But when Pastor Jack said that stuff to me, it was the first time I ever thought to myself, you know, forget this. Like, seriously, forget this. Even, like, _fuck_ this. It was a little terrifying, the fact that I was so willing to walk away from everything I’ve always known because of what I felt for Lauren and that made me feel like I was nuts.”

She smiles nervously.

“But I think I’m okay with that.”

She starts to nod her head like it all makes sense to her now.

“I think I’m okay with being in love.”

They go back to Ally’s house and Lauren’s upset at the sight of Camila, but she lets her follow her into her room. Ally watches as the doors slam shut and she listens for a moment to her daughter’s muted, hurt voice before walking to the kitchen and turning on the sink. There’s a bit of muted yelling now. The suds and the sponge are the last thing on her mind but she focuses on them. She’s on her last few cups when she hears the tuning of a guitar and then, one voice. It’s low and quiet, a little broken, but another one joins in. It’s a little melancholy and a little hopeful. She puts away the last of the cups to a crescendo of voices and she sighs in relief. A healing song.

-

It strengthens her. It strengthens Camila, too. Pastor Jack isn’t enough to turn Camila away from her religion, Ally comes to find. A petition lead by Camila and a good portion of the Path to Heaven Club (who, surprise, surprise, weren’t homophobic assholes) got Pastor Jack quickly fired for his “damaging views not consistent with the progressive environment that Casper High promotes”. (The official statement from Lauren’s high school was most definitely printed out and taped to the refrigerator door.)

Pastor Troy, the newest hire to lead the club, is a complete sweetheart. He had been a part of Ally’s church for years, although she hadn’t ever talked to him in person, but ever since the proceedings leading to Pastor Jack’s firing, he’s been over for tea a few times, and Ally can’t deny he’s an incredibly intelligent and kind man. 

She places cut apples on a plate and grabs two forks before heading out to her living room, following the sound of her daughter’s laughter and Camila’s guitar. This is the way she likes her home, filled with joy and love and fresh pieces of fruit picked straight from the trees (or the grocery mart barrels). 

-

She doesn’t understand how time passes so quickly but it feels like it comes in blinks. One moment she’s watching as her daughter waits at the altar with tears in her eyes and the next she’s walking around her daughter’s new apartment, complimenting Camila’s choice in interior design. Another blink and she’s teaching Camila her casserole recipe for Thanksgiving Dinner while Lauren watches the game loudly with Camila’s dad in the living room. Time flickers by so quickly that it’s like one of those nightmare montages in those older flicks she used to watch for a penny down at the dive.

But it’s okay. The pace is nice. And she’s surrounded by the people she loves, and the people she loves are so happy that her heart is never left bare. She can’t complain, not really. Not when Pastor Troy shows up flustered one late Christmas when her daughters are away on vacation, wondering if they might be able to spend the holidays together, two older souls.

And when Ally finds herself standing next to a hospital bed with a sleeping baby in her arms and her favorite humans around her, she can’t help but giddy in where her life’s lead. Her daughter’s eyes flutter open and she smiles at her mother before grunting from her attempt at shifting in the hospital bed.

“I’m never doing this again. Your turn next, babe.” 

“Deal.” Camila says, kissing her wife on the forehead.

Ally beams at the two before turning her attention to her positively glowing Lauren.

“Your daughter’s going to be a dream.”

“You think so?”

“She’ll be just like you.”

Lauren groans and Camila laughs.

“Oh, God, I sure hope not. She’ll be a nightmare, then.”

Ally laughs, and she soaks in the joy of the newly minted mothers and decides to officiate her own new status as grandmother with a kiss on the forehead of her sleepy little granddaughter.

“You’ll come to find, my dear, that as frightening and unexpected as it can be, a nightmare’s still a dream.”


End file.
